behind the door
by isinkintohearts
Summary: And she knew she was losing love all over again. Alternate ending up, rated M because it gets a little graphic! Sam/Freddie, of course.
1. Chapter 1

It was a humid June morning, the clock's long hand completing another full circle, marking the passage of thirty-three minutes past one. The surroundings were still dark, and the streetlights flickered unsteadily. Loud footsteps resounded from its impact to the gravel. If you looked out your windows closely, you would see the flickering streetlights illuminating the face of a girl with tear-stained cheeks, the grief on her face enough to make you sympathize with her sorrow. But then it was dark again, and you wouldn't believe you ever even saw her if you still weren't hearing the frantic steps she was making on the road's gravel. When the light flickers on again, she is nowhere in sight, and only the fading sound of her footsteps remains, staying with you until it becomes dark again.

* * *

><p>Sam Puckett is running, and running fast. She pulls her white light jacket tighter around her as another wave of shivers rack through her body. Even though her first year of college wasn't over yet, the temperature had already taken a turn toward summer-ish. And yet, as she runs, her feet pounding on the gravel so loudly that she knows that she's disturbing other people's well-deserved sleep, shivers run through her body, making her feel cold. Sam, who had walked on her way to her destination earlier, is dressed only in her favourite form-fitting pair of black pants, a purple shirt she <em>knows<em> he loves on her, and a white light jacket. At the time, it wasn't _this_ cold – sure, there was a breeze, but the air still spelled summer. She doesn't know if mornings are really cold in this part of town, or if it's just her.

She knows it's just her.

Another shiver runs through her body, and she lets out a choked sob. She's tired. Tired of the cheating, the lies. Tired of him. Tired of running. And yet she can't stop, because all she knows is that she has to get as far away from _there_ as she can. She can recreate her steps from earlier, and maybe it can be like it never happened, like she had never seen what she had. More tears fall down her face, and soon it gets harder to breathe – because of the memory, or because of the running, she doesn't know. Soon enough she is gasping for air, her legs slowing down just a fraction of the speed she started with. More tears pour down her face, and she knows she must look like a mess, but she knows that it doesn't matter. It was late, and she wouldn't have been out so late if the night had gone the way she wanted it to. The lights in the houses and the buildings she passes by are off, and she knows everyone was off in dreamland, where she could've been if she had never gone out to go see him.

Her legs start to feel like jelly, and she feels like she could suddenly fall to the ground at any given moment. She slows a little more, wiping her tears with the back of her hands, her sobs echoing through the night.

Suddenly there are arms pulling her to a stop, and even though she hated it, she wanted to look up and find him there, ready to spill apologies from his lips. But her tearful eyes only meet a pair of black, unfeeling ones. "Shh," the man tries to comfort her, but she knows what he is trying to do. She's scared, and she hates feeling scared, but that was the only thing she felt when she stared back into his crazed eyes. "Why runnin' so early, darlin'? Lemme drive you home." He takes a hold of her upper arm and pulls her a little too forcefully toward a silver Mazda on the curb. "Stop," she cries, trying to stand her ground, but she can't – the man was a tad stronger than her. He pays no attention to her plea, pulling her closer to the car. Her heart is beating like crazy, all the alarms in her mind going off. "Stop!" She screams, trying to pull her arm away, finding that she can't. She has never felt so hopeless before.

He turns on her, his hold still on her left arm, and shouts, "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" His other hand reaches out to slap her across the face. It stings, but it invokes anger in her that she knows she needs. She will never be able to ward off a strong man with a criminal mind when she's vulnerable. She wastes no time and punches him square on the face with her right arm, hard enough that his grip on her arm loosens. She takes the lead time she has to resume her running, scared for her life. _The man can follow me with his car_, she thinks, and so she decides to go for another route. Soon enough she's running faster than when she started, and the man and his silver Mazda are nowhere in sight. She can see her dorm building around the corner, and she pushes herself faster, ignoring the pain her feet were experiencing. She reaches the building and pushes elevator button six, exhausted. She doesn't know if it was from the running, the hurt she was feeling in her chest, or the experience she had with the guy. All she knows is how comfortable her bed would feel when she gets to lie down on it…

Once on her floor, she removes her gray ballet flats and wipes lazily at the tears on her cheeks, walking towards door number 608.

But when she gets there, there's somebody blocking her way from getting to the door.

She roughly pushes him away, and he loses his balance, but she doesn't care. She doesn't fucking care. He could fall and break his neck for all she cared. She takes out her key and puts it to the slot, turning the knob open, and putting the key back into her pocket. She places her hand on the doorknob, ready to enter, when he grabs her arm. Electricity shoots up her arms, and she hates how a single touch from him can set her body ablaze. "Sam," he chokes out, turning her to face him. She doesn't resist because her body is tired, and she knows it's easier not to argue. She meets his milk chocolate brown eyes, their silent pleas reaching her. She pulls her arm from his grip and struggles to look away. "Don't touch me," she spits at him, opening the door and closing it behind her.

Behind the door, she falls into a crumpled heap, her silent sobs taking her over, her tears starting once again.

* * *

><p>Freddie Benson makes a fist and hits it against the wall in frustration. "Damn it," he curses under his breath, feeling his eyes start to water. He can hear her sobs from the other side of the door, and he feels so mad at himself for being the reason for her tears. He stands there with his fist to the wall, silently crying.<p>

"Sam," he pleads again. "Sam, please. I – I didn't –"

"What?" Her voice, laced with venom, screams back at him. "I don't wanna hear your excuses! Why don't you go back to your dorm room and have a good time with your _friends_!"

He winces at her tone, but knows he had it coming. He can hear her sobs getting louder. "I – I can explain –" he starts again, before being cut off by her.

"I don't need your explanations!" This time, her tone surprises him because it contained every ounce of hurt and pain that he knew she was feeling. Her voice is thick with crying, but he _knows_. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

He inhales sharply, trying to find the strength to go on. He wouldn't admit it, but he was very easily intimidated by his girlfriend. "I'm not leaving," he says firmly, "not until you come out here and talk to me."

"Well then, you can have fun missing your finals!"

He sighs, knowing she's right. Studying for his finals was what got him in this situation in the first place…

* * *

><p><em>She lay on the floor, belly on her plush red carpet. Her books were strewn all around her, her sets of colored pens and highlighters scattered. She held a pen in her hands which she tapped to her cheek while she read. <em>

_Yes, she, Sam Puckett, was studying for her finals. Coincidentally – or maybe not, she didn't know anything – Freddie's finals started on the same day as hers. He had called her that afternoon, told her that he would spend the rest of the day studying, and that she should too. "I don't need to be told that," she had replied defensively. "Mama's serious when it comes to her studying."_

"_Good to know that, Sam. I'm really proud of you." She felt her heart do a little happy dance inside, happy to know that he was proud of her. _

_She tried not to show her happiness in her voice, keeping her voice level. "I was serious the last two years of high school. I'm pretty smart," she continued to say. _

"_Yeah yeah," he laughed, and her heart did little backflips at the sound of his laughter. She missed him. She missed him terribly – both of them had spent the weekend studying, and she wanted to see him again as soon as possible. _

"_You should be the one studying. You're the one in MIT."_

"_You're the one in Harvard."_

_Yes, she had gone to Harvard. She found that if she actually used her brain and studied, she actually did pretty well. The teachers at Ridgeway were astounded by her sudden interest in her studies, of course, but she didn't care about them. She did well because she wanted to do it for herself. And also because there was someone who was inspiring her…_

_Freddie, on the other hand, had gone to MIT. It was predictable, as he was into nothing but technology. It was also convenient for the couple, because MIT and Harvard were so close to each other, and they could meet up and do homework together. They spent hours on end together in his dorm room, and Freddie's roommate, Troy, didn't seem to mind at all. Troy was into having fun all the time, and he teamed up with Sam to get Freddie out of his books when he was so caught up in studying._

_She shook her head, clearing it of memories. She wanted nothing but to be with him right now, to feel his arm against hers. It gave her a sense of comfort, and she wanted nothing but to feel him beside her._

"_I bet your tech-nerd stuff is harder though."_

"_Sam, don't call it that!"_

"_Whatever." She tossed her hair to the back, biting the end of the pen she was holding. "Shouldn't you be studying? Why'd you even call?"_

"_I can't stand not talking to you, you know that. And I just wanted to tell you that I…" She waited, wanting to hear the words from him _so badly_._

"…_believe in you." She could hear the smile and sincerity in his voice, and she mentally cursed herself for wanting much, much more. "Study hard, okay? Like they say in Star Trek, study hard and –"_

"_Prosper, yeah yeah," she tapped her pen against her cheek, trying to concentrate on the math problem in front of her. "You should go study now, so you can _'prosper_'," she teased. She tried to sound serious again. "I'm studying right now, dork. You're disturbing me."_

"_Oh, sorry," he said, sounding flustered. "I guess I'll leave you alone now."_

"_Hey, Sam!" screamed Troy from across the room. _

"_Tell him I say hey back," she instructed. "Bye, Freddie."_

"_Bye."_

_And she hung up._

_She didn't hear what she wanted to, but that didn't matter because she knew he didn't have to say it. She smiled to herself and went back to her problems, completely satisfied._

_That was almost eight hours ago. It was already one in the morning, and she was still on the floor and studying, except now she had a bowl of Skittles beside her. She shook her head restlessly. She wanted to see Freddie, she really did. She knew he was probably already asleep by now – even though he worked his ass off studying, he still slept early so that he would have enough energy in the morning. Or at least that's what he always told her. _

_She stood up and stretched, took her light jacket off of her bed and walked out her dorm room. She had it all to herself, thank God. She locked up and walked slowly down the long flight of stairs, and opened the door of her dorm building, only to be met with the cool night air. _

_She started walking, thinking of Freddie. She knew what she wanted to do. She always had a key to Freddie's dorm room – he had given it to her. She would quietly sneak into the room as to not wake Troy up, and get into his bed. Freddie always stayed on just one side, so she decided she would stay on the other. She would stay there and sleep there, and he would wake up in the morning and find her on his bed. Then they could make breakfast together and get their cuddle on before their exams started. _

_She smiled to herself, thinking of his strong arms around her._

_Back then she didn't know she would be so wrong._

_Sam had taken her sweet time walking the streets. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold, either – and she loved it that way. She liked the silence, and the way the streetlights illuminated everything in their path. It took her twenty minutes to walk to the university, and a few more minutes to walk to his dorm and get into his room's floor. She took out a key from her pocket and opened the door._

_The first thing that registered was the smell of alcohol. Freddie and Troy were both seated in their small sofa set, drinking out of beer bottles. They were laughing together, and only when her view of Freddie was blocked did it register to her what was happening._

_They were having a drinking party with some other girls. One of them, a short redhead, had sat on Freddie's lap and whispered things to him. He laughed. She put her lips on his, and he didn't resist. And that was it._

_It was so short and it happened so fast, but it was enough to bring her whole world down._

_She ran out of that building, hearing shouts of her name, but she ignored them. She started running, wanting to be away from everything._

* * *

><p>Freddie sits on the carpet of the hallway, his back to the door. He doesn't want to lose Sam. He loves her so much – he didn't want what she saw earlier to happen. One minute, he was having a good time with some friends, and the next, Sam was running out of his room.<p>

"Sam," he knocks, pleading with his voice. It disheartens him to hear himself sound so defeated. He puts his ears on the door, trying to hear any sound from her. "I didn't mean for that to happen. If you just let me explain, I –"

"Stop, Freddie," he hears from the other side. It's quiet and faint, but he knows that she must be sitting listening with her ears to the door, too. "Just stop." Her voice cracks and it tears at his heart to hear her like this. He hurt her. Even though he didn't mean to, he did.

So he stops like she tells him to. But he knows that she knows that he _will_ stay there on the other side of the door, waiting for the storm to pass.

* * *

><p><em>It's not what it looked like. He was studying. He was seriously studying, like he told her he would. Except he didn't sleep early like he usually did, but spent more time studying some more. Even with Troy constantly telling him that he should lay off the books because he was surely going to ace the exams, he still wasn't satisfied. He sat across of Troy on their small sofa set, reading and rereading everything, making sure that all the information was making its way into his mind.<em>

_Someone closed the book he was reading, and he looked up to see Troy. "Dude. You've studied for god knows how many hours straight. You gotta loosen up!" He did a hairflip that was strangely similar to Justin Bieber's, keeping the bangs out of his eyes. "With a brain like yours, you're sure to ace everything. So chill."_

"_How am I supposed to chill when our finals start tomorrow?" He asked Troy exasperatedly, who had left him and was now walking to the refrigerator. Troy was too easygoing, and he knew he was making such a big deal out of their upcoming finals, but it was important. It was his education, for Christ's sake! _

"_I know how," Troy told him as he walked back to the sofa and took a seat beside him on their small but comfortable couch. He handed Freddie an opened beer. "It'll loosen you up. God, I wonder how it would feel like to be your nerves when you're so focused on studying." He took a swig out of his bottle and motioned for Freddie to do the same. "Go on," he said, "Nothing's getting out of hand."_

_But things always did. Soon, there were more people in their dorm room, most of them girls whom Troy had invited. Much later they were all drunk and dancing around each other, but Freddie kept in his seat. They made stupid jokes and laughed over stupid things. He checked his watch and saw that it was past one in the morning. When he looked up, one of Troy's girl friends, who he remembered was named Stacie, was in front of him. "Hey there cutie," she purred, sitting on his lap. He didn't try to resist – after all, they were just having fun – so long as she didn't start making moves on him._

_She leaned into him until she was breathing on his ear. "Do you want me?" _

_He laughed, which was a really irrational thing to do, but you had to understand – he was drunk. "No –" he started to say, when her lips were on his. They were warm and soft, and they reminded him of Sam's lips… _

_The thought of Sam returned him to rational thinking. He roughly pushed the girl away, looking out their opened door room and seeing a flurry of blonde curls disappearing from the doorframe._

"_Sam!" He called, running drunkenly out the door, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. He turned back to glare at the wide-eyed Troy, and Stacie came up to him. _

"_That you're girlfriend? Whatever, I didn't want you anyway." She stalked off to where Troy was sitting, and it made him so angry – the girl was an absolute bitch! – but he decided to keep it to himself and hurriedly took his car keys from one of the drawers beside the sofa set, dashing out of the room and into the parking lot. He got into his car, shaking his head at himself. How could he have been so stupid? Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of Sam. He wiped his tears away, knowing he had to follow her. The engine revved under him, and soon, the car was in motion, heading towards Harvard University._

_He arrived at her dorm building, asking the door man if Sam had already returned. Apparently she had not. His gut sank at the thought of waiting for her to return, and having to talk to her about the misunderstanding they had had. He walked up the stairs and to the sixth floor, walking down the quiet hallway and stopping at her door. He stood there, trying to think clearly about what he wanted to say to her when she got there. He wanted to quickly get to the point, to tell her it was all just a big misunderstanding, that whatever her assumptions were, they were wrong. _

_But when the elevator dinged and he saw her walk tiredly to her door, wiping away her tears every now and then, her ballet flats in one hand, he felt his words start to disappear. She spotted him right as she stood in front of her door, and roughly pushed him away. He lost his balance, and straightened himself up right away. He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat all choked up, the words he wanted to get to her not quite coming out. She was about to open the door when he grabbed her arm, turning her around. He tried to plead to her with his eyes, letting out a choked and empty "Sam." She pulled away from him, eyes leaving his, and sent out a venomous "Don't touch me," before she locked him out. _

_And when she did, he felt like she was locking him out of her life._

* * *

><p>Her sobs have died down, and she keeps her ear against the door, if only to hear the comforting sound of Freddie's breathing against his side of the door. It's sad how they've come to this, to nothing but the silence. She wants to unlock the door and run into his arms, where she knows she's safe. She wants to tell him that he can explain, and he will, and then they can pretend nothing ever happened. But she knows it's bigger than that. A part of her wants to, but a part of her wants to take time to sort out her feelings. She's confused – what girl who catches her boyfriend kissing another girl isn't? The thought brings fresh images of what happened to her mind, and she feels her eyes sting, sees her vision blurring. She lets her tears fall on her carpet. More come, but she doesn't care. She wants to cry and sleep all her pain away, and wake up and find everything back to normal. But she knows nothing will ever be the same after what happened.<p>

She doesn't let him explain. She doesn't want him to. Part of her does, but if she does hear it, how can she be sure that he's not lying to her?

"Sam," he calls out weakly again. She hates how she pushes herself closer to the door in anticipation of what he has to say, but she does. "I'm sorry. I swear it wasn't what you thought it was." And that's when she thinks that she has heard enough. She doesn't want to hear any more. She looks up and into the face of the clock on one of her bedside drawers, seeing that it's almost three and that they've been waiting on each other for more than an hour.

"Don't say anything more," she tries to say loud and clearly, but it comes out soft and defeated. "I don't want to hear any more. Go home, Freddie."

"Sam…"

"Please." And she feels the tears start to form again on her eyelids, and she closes her eyes and let them fall, shaking her head. "Just go."

* * *

><p>Freddie looks down at the watch on his arm, seeing that it's almost three in the morning. Both he and Sam have their finals later on in the morning, but he doesn't see how any of that could be important right now.<p>

"Sam," he starts again, talking to the door. "I'm sorry I swear it wasn't what you thought it was." He stops, trying to see how she will react. But she doesn't, and so he waits a little longer, thinking it's her way of saying that he can go on. He opens his mouth to tell the story, but she beats him to it.

"Don't say anything more," she tells him, and his mouth closes almost immediately. He can hear the hurt and defeat in her voice. "I don't want to hear any more. Go home, Freddie."

He shakes his head vigorously, unwilling to accept her words. It hurts to know that she won't hear his side of it, that he won't even listen to her, that she didn't even stay outside to at least know the truth. "Sam…" But he finds himself speechless. He doesn't know what to say anymore.

"Please," she says again, her voice shaky. "Just go."

He decides it's time to respect her decision. He just hopes that once she sleeps over it, she'll come around and give him another chance.

He stands, his back hurting from not moving from his position outside the door, and walks away. He wants to believe that they're going to be alright, and that they'll move on from this incident, but he can't help but feel like he's losing a part of him as he leaves.

* * *

><p>When Sam's father left his family, leaving behind a woman he never married, two children he had with said woman, and all his responsibilities for them, she had lost love. When Melanie started becoming popular, having all the boys at her feet, Sam's jealousy and hatred of her sister caused their relationship to worsen, until they drifted apart… and she knew she had lost love. When she used to watch Carly and Freddie, Freddie flirting with her and Carly unknowingly flirting back, she felt like she lost love. When they finally got together after Freddie had saved her life, that feeling grew bigger.<p>

She feels the hinges of the door loosen, and she knows that he's leaving. She listens to his footsteps as they faded away, and as soon as she was _absolutely sure_ that he had already left, she lets out a sob she didn't know she was holding. Tears start to form on her eyes once again, and sobs start to rack her body just as they had when she was running. She doesn't know why it hurts so bad, why it hurts so much more than it had earlier.

She's a crumpled heap on the floor, crying her eyes and her heart out, and it's the worst pain she has felt since her father left her, her mother, and Melanie. She had told Freddie to leave, so he did. Why did it hurt so badly? She sobs into the carpet uncontrollably, lying on it in a fetal position and just trying to sob the pain away.

She had Freddie, had him around her finger, had him as her best friend and lover. It was as if life wanted her to have a taste of love – only to take it back.

And she knew she was losing love all over again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have three unfinished fics on my laptop, and I just felt the need to finish this first. Yay, I haven't written in so long! Anyway, I switched tenses a lot, and I know it sucked, but I wrote it in present tense, except for the flashbacks they had. **

**Yes, this story is complete. :) Care to review? Reviews are always better than favorites or story alerts. **

**xoxo, Trixie**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! I just want you guys to know that this chapter is optional. You don't have to read it if you already liked the ending to the story! Honestly, I like this better as a oneshot and with that angsty, open-ended feeling, and I know this isn't as good. This is just… well, an alternate ending for those who want things ending on a good note. Also, I bumped the rating to M 'cause it gets a little graphic! Just a little! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>She turns to face the mirror. What she sees quietly surprises her – not because she looks, one, horrible – or two, horrible – but because she actually likes what she's seeing.<p>

She's simply clad in a _very_ tight-fitting white tank top and a pair of brand new stretch jeans. On her feet are three-inch high pumps. She glances at her reflection again, tossing her golden curls as she turns to look at what she could look like from behind.

Sure, she wasn't blessed with height, but god, puberty was good to her. She has nice, ample breasts that look even better in the wired, nude-colored bra she's wearing, and her jeans fit her just right. The whole outfit accentuates her curves in all the right places, and she can't help but be content at how good she's looking.

She walks towards the door, not bothering to pick up one of her jackets. As far as she knows, the weather was still the same, and even though it should be fall by now, the weather hadn't taken a turn for fall-ish yet. She locks the door and shuts it behind her, touching her jeans pocket to make sure her key is still there. She makes her way to the elevator, the sound of her heels clinking resounding throughout the hallway. _Whoever lives in this floor with me must be asleep or out_, she thinks. _It _is_ a Saturday night after all_. The elevator _dings_ open and she presses the ground button, and down she goes. Her mind wanders to Freddie, and she can't help but wonder how he's holding up. The thought of him makes her heart sink, and the familiar pain in her chest comes back. _He's probably out with girls_, she thinks to herself bitterly, hating how a pang of guilt shoots through her. She _was_ the one who ignored his calls and messages. It was reasonable for him to give up on her.

The elevator doors open, pulling her out of her thoughts. She starts walking the distance to the door, aware that she's the only one in the lobby at the moment. She can feel the new doorman's eyes on her, and she can't help but feel good about it, and so she puts a little more sway in her hips just for the fun of it. First impressions matter, don't they? The doorman is entranced by her, his eyes never leaving her until she is fully out of his sight. She tosses her hair back as she walks the streets, strangely satisfied by the attention. She definitely did _not_ have men on her mind when she planned going to a club and putting a simple yet revealing outfit together, but seeing as it attracted men as well, then it worked pretty well for her.

The streetlights cast an eerie glow to the otherwise dark streets, and all around she can see other students out of their dorm rooms and just enjoying the night. There's a couple making out in one of the benches, and she feels jealousy ooze inside her, thinking of how much happier she would've been if she was just spending her night with the person she loved, cuddling and kissing. She pushes the thought away, trying not to linger on it too much for the fear that her feelings could get to her, making her do something totally spontaneous. That was what had happened on that night, wasn't it? She was supposed to be studying, but she wanted to be there with him. And so she walked into his room in the wee hours of the morning, not knowing that she would be running away from it only seconds later.

She shakes her head and pushes the thought to the back of her mind. Tonight she plans on having fun, _not _reminiscing and thinking of what could've been.

She stops and blinks as she sees the familiar sign in front of her: Jenny's. This was the place she went to a lot during the summer, on the nights when she couldn't stop thinking of what she should've done and what she shouldn't have, on the nights when a drink was all she needed to forget everything altogether. Tonight, as the first Saturday of the school year, she planned on celebrating – but seeing as the ground beneath her was vibrating to the music inside, telling her that everyone was here to party, she thought – _why not?_ She pushes the door open and the first thing she hears is _na na na na na come on_. The strobe lights blind her for a moment, and she blinks again and realizes she is on the dance floor. She pushes her way through the crowd, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and just wanting to get to the other side of the room where the alcohol is.

She's almost there when someone takes hold of her arm, and she turns around to see that it's Elisa, one of her friends from her freshman year. She hadn't talked to Elisa since school ended, and definitely hadn't seen her around in her first week as a sophomore. "Is this Sam Puckett?" Elisa asks, faking surprise. "God, I've missed you!" She squeals, engulfing Sam in a hug. "You didn't call at all during the summer, but I understand, I mean, after what happened to you and…" She stops and releases Sam, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "If you think no one knows about it, _everyone_ does. Someone heard you two fighting and spread the rumor... I've tried calling you over the summer, but the line was always busy." She leads Sam into the alcohol bar and motions for her to take a seat across from her.

Elisa waves to the bartender and orders something for the both of them, but strangely her words and the music are muted down. All Sam can think about is that everyone knows what went down between her and Freddie – and maybe some of the details had been meddled with. She looks around slowly, trying to see if people are looking at her funny, but the people she makes eye contact with only smile at her or give her a little wave. Elisa starts talking again and Sam looks back up at her.

"So how are you holding up, sweetie?" She asks bluntly, and if you weren't a friend of Elisa's, you would think she was being rude. Elisa was one of the nicest people Sam had ever had the pleasure to meet, clearing up fights and always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Sam knows she's merely curious. "Fine, really… I'm okay. Came here for a drink is all." Elisa nods, understanding that she didn't want to talk about it at the moment. A smirk forms on her face, and she touches Sam's arm. "Wearing _that_, drinking can't be your only reason for coming! I mean seriously, girl, that is hot. Glad to see you're finally sexying it up." She winks, and the bartender comes back with two larger-than-usual shot glasses. The two hook their arms together and down the drink. The burning sensation is welcome to Sam – it's one of the things she enjoys when drinking. Elisa stands and drags Sam to the dance floor, and soon enough the two are dancing wildly to Lady Gaga. They laugh and flirt it up with the guys who come to dance with them, and Sam thinks that she doesn't care what people think or if they're watching, because she's having the time of her life and _actually having fun_. Guys wink at her from across the room and come to dance with her, and she can't help but bask in the feeling of being wanted. But soon it gets old and she gets tired, and so she excuses herself from the well-built redhead she's dancing with and tells Elisa that she'll hang out instead at the drinks bar. She walks to the bar, running a hand through her messy curls. She sits on one of the stools and one of the bartenders, a woman, immediately spots her.

"Having a good time, Sam?" Zoe asks her, smiling. Zoe has been like a mom to her since her first visit to Jenny's, when she came in with bloodshot eyes and crazy hair. The older woman had immediately asked her what was wrong, and always made it a point to talk to Sam whenever she was in the bar. Sam smiles back, "Yeah, it's crazy. Party's even crazier than it was in the summer." The summer parties were just plain wild, and Sam understood, knowing that people were merely celebrating their freedom. But surprisingly, the first party of the school year is even crazier, with more drink-deprived college students and scantily-clad girls ready to party and stripping on the dance floor.

"Good to know that, kid. But remember, studies first, a'right? Don't get too caught up in the 'party life', as they call it. Don't want to see you 'round here the whole school year, a'right?"

"I won't, I won't," she laughs. "Isn't it obvious that studies are my priority right now? But _come on_, a little partying doesn't hurt."

Zoe ignores her, shaking her head and muttering something about how she was dressed. "You ain't here for some one-night stand, are ya?"

"God no," she shakes her head, a little hurt. "I'm not that type of person, Zoe. Cut me some slack, school just started again." The older woman sighs, and looks back up at her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry kid, just a little stressed today." Sam is about to ask if she wanted to talk about it, but Zoe opens her mouth to speak again. "Anything you want to order?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I think I'll just rest awhile."

"Okay, I'll go serve them others then. Wave if ya need anything, a'right?" Sam smiles and nods, proud at the fact that even when she had her own problems, Zoe always looked out for her. _So selfless_, she thinks, and Zoe goes back to work, leaving Sam to her thoughts once again. She thinks of friends and school and how she needs to be in touch with Elisa again when she hears a familiar voice calling her name.

"Sam?"

She hates how much she's missed that voice, and her heartbeat starts drumming in her ears, but at the same time, she feels as though a stake was driven through her heart. She feels her healing wounds reopen, but finally gathers enough courage to spin her chair around to face the person.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he states happily, sitting down on the chair next to her. The stake in her heart digs in deeper at the fact that he's treating her like a friend he had lost in touch with, like that night had never happened, like nothing _ever_ happened between them…

She quickly concludes that the best thing for her to do is to play along. "Yeah," she manages, hating how lame it sounds. "Good to see you again, Fredwiena." She hates having to tease him at this very crucial moment, but if he was acting like they were _friends_, maybe it was better if she reverted back to her old self, back to when she didn't have to think about what she felt for this certain boy, back when he was only her stress outlet and free punching bag.

Her heart beats so fast that she feels as if it would spill out of her if she didn't get away from this man soon, but there's a part of her that wants to stay, a part of her that's been waiting for this chance encounter for so long.

Over the summer, Sam had gone over all the possibilities, torturing herself with what ifs and could've beens. She had concluded that Freddie was way too nice to actually cheat on her (or on anyone else, for that matter, but the thought of Freddie with other girls made her uncomfortable, so she quickly dismissed it). What if he'd only had too much to drink, therefore clouding his judgement? What if he didn't really want the girl? It _was_ a fact that the girl had made the first move… but when she had figured it out, it had already been too late. He had stopped calling and messaging, and she was too full of her pride (and her secret fear of his rejection) to make the first move to fix things.

"You never answered any of my calls," he murmurs quietly yet casually, probably trying to provoke something out of her. But instead she keeps quiet, ashamed, and also afraid of what she'd end up saying if she opened her mouth. She stares at the marble counter she's leaning on, thinking that if she was like Cyclops and had rays shooting out of her eyes, there already would've been a massive hole on the counter. She's determined not to look at him or show any reaction to his statement, trying to pretend he had never said anything after "yeah". The silence is awkward however, and so she thanks the heavens when he waves to a bartender and Zoe comes over. She sends Sam a questioning look, and Sam bites down on her lip nervously, confirming Zoe's mental questions. "A cerveza for me, please," he tells Zoe, then turns to face her. His eyes are still that beautiful shade of brown, and she laughs mentally at her stupidity, at the thought that his eyes would've changed their color –

"Yeah, I'll get the same," she tells Zoe, nodding her head at the woman, trying to tell her that she was going to handle this alone. She nods at the both of them and walks to the other end, leaving the two alone once again.

"So, how'd your finals go?"

She gives him points for remembering that they had taken their finals after that whole ordeal, and tries to construct a proper sentence in her head, something that wouldn't sound lame.

"Aced them all," she tells him in the same casual manner. She blows on her bangs and acts like it's not a big deal and that she doesn't give a damn, "except English Lit. Didn't quite fail, but meh."

She can see from the corner of her eye Freddie raising his eyebrows, and she turns a little in her chair to face him. "Didn't really have the time to study," _Because I was busy crying over you_, she explains, and he nods, still looking bewildered. Freddie knew for a fact that she _loved_ English Lit, which had surprised him the first time in junior high, but he had gotten over it. She used to be great at it, and her love for it made her even better. She could understand where his shock was coming from… but the truth was, Sam had left English Lit to study for last, because it came easy to her. But after the whole ordeal, she had barely read her book, only staring lifelessly at words that didn't seem to matter anymore.

"How about you? Aced them all, didn't ya?"

"Pretty much…" he says coolly, but then he looks up at her and that boyish, lopsided grin is on his face, and her erratic heartbeat starts up again. Zoe comes back with two cervezas in her hand, and they cheer to nothing, clinking their bottles together and chugging the liquid down. She unconsciously smiles at him, and he smiles back, and she thinks that she'll get it right this time, that she'll fix everything, without anything getting out of hand.

* * *

><p>But of course, she was wrong. It had always been said that alcohol loosens the tongue. A few more drinks later and they're talking about what they've done in the summer, talking about Carly and their past few years together, telling jokes and laughing even when it wasn't appropriate to. He takes her hand and a familiar electric current runs up her arm, and before she can concentrate on the wonderful feeling, she's on the dance floor once again, laughing and smiling as he spins her around. The strobe lights change colors and she can't tell if it's the ground vibrating to the music, or if it's her heartbeat that's getting louder and faster. Together, they dance just as wildly as the others around them to Nicki Minaj, who sings about heartbeats running away, and she thinks that that's exactly what Freddie's doing to her. She shimmies and turns around and shimmies again, just to show him what he's lost, and he grabs her by the waist and soon they're grinding against each other, and it just feels so right. He runs his hands up and down her sides, and she knows this is what <em>she's<em> been missing, and she can't help but bask in the feeling of him against her, her arms around his neck as she slides up and down against his body. She lets go and turns to face him him, hands on his wonderfully-shaped chest, and she messes through his hair with her nimble fingers and together they laugh at nothing. Before she knows it their heads are moving closer and he catches her lips against his.

The rational part of her sends all her red lights going off, but tonight all she can think of is getting that rational side to _shut up_ and let her have her well-deserved happiness. Their lips move against each other in perfect harmony, and she remembers once thinking, back when they were still together, that his lips were made to fit perfectly into hers.

She grabs his collar and pulls him down at the same time he pulls her closer, his arms around her waist. Their soft kissing quickly becomes a full blown make out session, and their kissing isn't anywhere near _gentle_ anymore. She can hear people around them gasping in surprise, probably at the two making out on the dance floor, and she thinks, _there are girls stripping all around; why don't you look at them instead?_ but she can't voice it out, because that means having to pull away and having to stop kissing Freddie, and she doesn't want that. She tunes their voices and the whole world out, and for a few moments all she can hear is Nicki Minaj singing _boom badoom boom boom badoom boom_, and she feels her heartbeat thrum the same way. Freddie pulls her even closer to him, and she can feel his heart beating against hers. They kiss for what seems like forever, until they both pull away at the same time, discovering the need to breathe.

She pants and leans against him, and she manages a laugh. He smiles at her in the goofy way that only he can, and though the different-colored lights dance around his face, all she can think about is how much she's missed seeing that smile on his face.

"My place," she whispers seductively into his ear before she takes his hand and leads them out of Jenny's.

The air is warm – _or maybe it's just her_ – as they stumble through the street and make jokes and laugh over the most nonsense things. Their hands are intertwined and the streetlights flicker unsteadily, and she trips on her own two feet but someone catches her, and she looks up and sees Freddie and she playfully shoves him away, yelling "I can take care of myself," and they unconsciously link their fingers together again and continue to make their drunken way to her dorm building.

They get to her room and she's barely locked the door when he pushes her against the wall and captures her mouth with his again, and it's suddenly so much hotter in the room. They resume their kissing and her hands take a handful of his hair, pulling him closer (if there was any more space between them to begin with) to her. His tongue glides over her lower lip, and without hesitating, she opens her mouth with his, and he easily gains the entrance he silently asked for. Their tongues move against each other in a battle for dominance, one that, she admits grudgingly in her head, Freddie is winning. They pull back from their heated make-out session and lean against each other, breathing heavily. Her hands are on his chest, and she can't help but remember what was under his navy blue button-up… She takes no time unbuttoning his shirt with such expert ability that he feels the need to ask her in between heavy breaths: "You – used to – doing this – Sam?" She keeps quiet as she gently – but quickly, with the impatience of a wild animal – pushes the fabric off his shoulders and down his arms, her hands wandering on his muscular shoulders. "Only on you," she admits as she pulls him in for another kiss, leaving him no time to react. He's surprised, but he tries not to show it, instead focusing on how her lips meld so well with his. She kisses him slowly, so agonizingly slow that he decides to quicken things up on his own. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches for the bottom of her tight-fitting tank top, only pulling away for the shortest time to pull the garment over her head, latching his lips on hers the moment her shirt was off.

He trails kisses down her neck, and she moans and revels in the feeling, and he loves that he can still make her feel this way. He looks at her beautiful breasts, almost spilling out of their confines and he just wants to touch them, to touch her. His hands reach out behind her to undo the clasp of her bra when she grazes her fingers over the bulge in his pants, which, now that he thinks about it, feels uncomfortable confined in his tight jeans. They let go and hurriedly push their pants off, returning to each other's arms in another passionate kiss, the need for the other stronger than ever.

They have sex for the second time ever. As he takes her here, up against her dorm room wall, she goes back to the memory of their first time, which was sweet and gentle and loving, the complete opposite of what was happening right now. The whole thing is rough and sadistic and yet passionate – and then she realizes just how relevant what was said about there being a thin line between the passion of love and hate was. There she was, years ago, claiming to hate this _nub_ so much, and yet she had fallen in love with him. And now they were _getting it on_ in her dorm room. Who knew it would be Freddie all along?

He takes her the way he wants to, and she loves how he does, because she knows that he knows that she's all his, and that she always will be. And when the peak of their pleasure hits them, her voice screaming his name over and over like a prayer, her back arching, her hardened nipples pressing against his toned chest, all they can think about is how glorious the feeling – and the moment, spending it together – is.

They breathe against each other, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady boom-boom-boom of his heart. It calms her and brings her down from her high, just like how Freddie's presence always used to. She looks down at the mess they have made, at the discarded clothes on the carpet, and she laughs, playfully pushing him away. He laughs with her, the sound a beautiful bass vibrating around the room, and she smiles, a real, genuine smile, feeling like they were back to who they used to be. Right now they were just Sam and Freddie, and there were no worries, no problems, no fighting, no nothing – just the two of them against the world.

She walks over to where her panties and tank top lie, pulling the shirt over her head and putting her skivvies back on. In the corner of her eyes, she can see Freddie putting his briefs on. She moves toward her bed and lies down on her side, under the covers, getting comfortable. She furrows her head further into the pillows, closing her eyes, suddenly tired. He wouldn't leave, she knows he wouldn't –

She waits, and soon enough the bed shifts under the added weight, and suddenly there's someone behind her. She can feel his bare chest against her back over the fabric of her tank top, feel the warmth of his arm as it wrapped around her small waist. She can feel him breathe against her ear, and it sends an involuntary shiver up her body.

"Goodnight, Sam," he whispers, and she quickly falls into the blackness.

For the first time in a long time, the two are able to sleep peacefully and dreamlessly.

* * *

><p>She wakes up to the blaring sunlight, quickly covering her eyes with the back of her hand and mentally cursing the fact that there was the tiniest part of the window that her new purple curtains couldn't cover. She moves to get up when – was that an arm on her waist?<p>

_Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod_… she thinks, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. There was a pressure building inside her head, and she faintly smells a whiff of alcohol in the air. _Just what happened last night?_

She closes her eyes tight and tries to remember the events of the previous night, ignoring the pressure of what was sure to be a shitty hangover in her head. She thinks and thinks and thinks, and soon enough blips of memory come back to her…

_Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom._ Lights going from green to pink to blue to yellow. Dancing with someone, kissing and making out with them on the dance floor… but who was it? Was it that redhead? But no, she doesn't remember dancing to Nicki Minaj with him. She looks around at her surroundings, trying to calm the internal panic growing in her – god, she doesn't want to have a spaz attack! She looks around, and she's positively sure this is her apartment. So she brought a guy she doesn't remember to her apartment, and, apparently, had sex with him?

_This is bad. Really bad._

She shuts her eyes again, trying to remember. Someone had offered to buy her a drink – a cerveza, she recalls – that same someone had asked her about her finals, and they talked about their past together and – they danced and made out and she remembers her heart going wild… she had leaned in and whispered, "My place…" said someone laughed with her on the streets and took her against her dorm room wall – and now she can see him, see who it really was – it was someone in navy blue with chocolate brown eyes and beautiful brown hair and…

_Holy chiz, I slept with Freddie!_

Her heart goes crazy, because she kinda wants this, but she kinda doesn't at the same time. She looks down and finds herself in only her white tank top and panty, and she's pretty sure Freddie isn't wearing anything but his briefs…

Suddenly he shifts behind her, his hold on her loosening, and she practically jumps in surprise, but the weight of his arm holds her down. She doesn't know if he's asleep or awake or in-between, and she doesn't know if he'll remember what they had done just hours ago, and it scares the hell out of her. What would happen if he woke up? Holy mother of…

"Sam, I'm sorry."

Her eyes widen, because by the tone of his voice, she knows he isn't apologizing for what had happened the night before. She goes into full panic mode, and she wants nothing but to jump up and run or tell him to leave or – ugh, she has to do something! But she finds that she can't move – either his arm is really heavy, or she was paralyzed – though it seems it was the latter, because everyone knows Sam Puckett could take Freddie Benson any day.

His musky voice goes on, somehow calming her, and he whispers in her ear: "I swear it wasn't what you thought it was. I was studying, I really was. Troy got me a drink and soon there were others in our room…" His voice cracks and her heart breaks because she doesn't really want to have to remember this again… "I didn't kiss her, Sam. I didn't kiss her back. She kissed me. I didn't even realize she was kissing me until I thought of you and how soft your lips were… and the next thing I knew, you and your blonde hair were out the door."

She closes her eyes, willing her tears not to fall. She doesn't know why she feels like crying, she just does. She can hear the truth in his explanation, and somehow it's what makes it so much harder to just give in…

She plucks up all her courage and swifly removes his arm off of her and gets up, walks over to her closet-drawer and grabs an oversized shirt. She pulls it over her head and it ends right above her knees, and she concludes that it's enough to cover her up. She walks back over to the bed and stands right in front of Freddie, whose expression of confusion and hurt makes her chest hurt just a little more.

"So what? I'm supposed to just forgive you now?" She knows she's being irrational, and she knows she's risking something so important by going out of her way and putting up a fight, but she can't help it – it's how her defense mechanism works, and it has never failed her. She scoffs at the confusion that becomes more evident in his expression, but inside her heart throbs painfully because she doesn't mean to hurt him, but she still finds it in herself to do so. "Three months pass and you expect me to still feel the same way?" _I still do, I really do_, she thinks, but she can't tell him that –

The hurt in his eyes burn through her, and her conflicted emotions mixed with his are enough to make her eyes water. She looks away, because she doesn't want him to see her so weak, so _vulnerable_.

"Last night was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. I was lonely, and you were there."

The words taste like burnt toast on her tongue, and she hates to have to lie, not knowing why she even has to. She wasn't going to keep her guard down around him, and he wasn't going to see how much she really needed him. She laughs bitterly, adding, "And if you were so miserable, why didn't you come after me? Sure, I ignored your messages and calls, but there were other ways to talk to me, Benson!" Her voice raises an octave but she doesn't care, going on: "You had to wait until we would _stumble_ across each other in a bar, get me drunk, and apologize? Or if you were planning something, wasn't three months enough to have made a move already? God!"

She paces across the room, trying to avoid any form of contact with him. She knows she's being mean and that she's hurting Freddie so much with her words, but she couldn't help the anger that boiled inside of her. What she was really angry about, though, she doesn't know…

"How do I even know that story wasn't made up?" She stops pacing and looks at him, realizing it's a bad idea after seconds of looking into his hurt eyes, and looks down at the ground. He stands up and takes a hold of her wrists, stopping her from pacing again, and there's a force that pulls her gaze to his. She knows he can see her vulnerability, knows he can see the pain and confusion that she mirrored from his eyes, knows he can see her want to believe in every word he said…

She lowers her gaze and he continues to stand in front of her, holding her wrists as she waits nervously for his next words.

"Sam," he finally whispers, releasing his hold on one of her wrists and lifting her chin up to face him. She holds her breath, not knowing what to expect, looking up at him longingly. "I'm sorry. I know it took so long, and maybe even longer if we hadn't come across each other at Jenny's yesterday." The soft gentleness and genuinety in his voice and eyes makes her melt, and she finds herself unable to tear her gaze away from his. "I was still trying to get over you, but every day just got more miserable. For someone who hurt and called me names, I sure missed you a lot." She keeps her mouth shut and doesn't speak, so he decides to go on, content that she's finally listening to him.

"The first few days were the worst, but they got better. But I couldn't deny that there was a hole inside my chest, some sort of numbness that nothing could fill. That's when I realized that it could only be filled by you. That's why I was so glad to find you at Jenny's yesterday, because I knew that it was a sign of some sort, and I knew I at least had to try to get you back. I wasn't trying to get you drunk, and I wasn't expecting to have sex with you in your apartment. That wasn't part of my master plan or whatever. I was drunk, and I'm sorry if it seemed like I was taking advantage of you."

He looks down, and she can feel the sadness in his words, and she wants nothing but to hug him and take him into her arms and to tell him that she didn't think of it that way, that she still wanted him and that they should still be together, but something leaves her unable to speak, so instead she looks down, too, at a loss of what to do.

"Look," he starts again, and her eyes light up hopefully, meeting his gaze. "I know it's hard to believe me and my explanations. But I swear I'm telling the truth, Sam. I don't think I could ever lie to you. I don't think you meant your words, either. I don't believe that you think last night was a mistake. I know you and I both wanted it, Sam." She looks down _again_ and she half-expects him to just stop trying and to walk out her door, but surprisingly he goes on. "I know there's a part of you that's willing to give me another chance." He is met with silence again, but this time, the silence isn't unnerving, but kind of… comfortable. He knows she needs time to think, knows she needs time to let his words sink in. Finally she sighs, her gaze still on the floor. "I just…" She slips her hands into his, intertwining their fingers, feeling the need to be in close, physical contact with him. She misses this, she misses _them_.

Moments pass and she finally looks up at him, her eyes sincere. "I'm sorry for what I said, Freddie. I didn't mean it. I just… I know you wouldn't have been able to do that to me. But my pride kept me from going to apologize…" She sighs again, eyes back on the floor beneath her, but she finally relaxes into his chest, head over his heart, breathing his scent in and trying to even out her breathing and the beating of her heart.

"God, I missed you."

They stay like that for what seems like hours but is merely minutes, making up for lost time, making up for time they had spent feeling sorry for themselves. They simply stand there, fingers intertwined, familiarizing themselves with each other once again, the silence somehow comforting.

A breeze blows through her window, her curtains moving with the wind, and the two groan and rub their eyes as the sunlight temporary blinds them, ruining their moment.

"So… does this mean you forgive me?" He asks playfully, and, with raised eyebrows, she stares at him, then pushes him away, laughing. She picks his clothes up from her carpet and walk over to him, handing them over. He doesn't take them, though – he's too busy staring happily into the beautiful blue eyes he had missed so much.

"Not necessarily forgive you, but, yes, it does mean that I'm giving you a second chance." He grins from ear to ear and pulls her close, making her blush. "Let's start over," he smiles, looking down at her. She pushes him again, and this time, to the door as she mutters something under her breath about mushy crap – but he doesn't miss her million-watt smile.

"Leave before I change my mind, dork." Before he knows it, he's outside and his clothes and shoes are being thrown out at him, and he realizes that he's back outside her door, just like he had been three months ago, only this time he's not pleading for her to listen to his explanations. He looks around and takes in the hallway, but the thought of him being out here in nothing but his briefs aren't enough to dampen his happy mood or to take the smile off his face. "Starbucks at four?" He yells to her, and she replies with a muffled, "Sounds good," and – even though he didn't think it possible – his smile widens even more, his happiness and excitement practically going off in waves around him. He picks his clothes and his shoes off the floor and walks to the elevator, not bothering to put any articles of clothing on, receiving glares and the stares of girls who shake their heads at him, but he ignores them because they don't matter. All that matters is that he had gotten another chance with the girl he loved, and this time, he definitely wasn't going to mess it up.

* * *

><p>She slams the door behind her, leaning her back against it, her mouth curved into a smile. She and Freddie were on speaking terms again, yes! What had started as an accidental meeting in the place she used to go to for solace over her loss of Freddie had turned into them making up and giving <em>them <em>another shot. She smiles, thinking that she's going to get things right this time, thinking that she'd never be so stupid to let him walk away again. She slides down the door and squeals in delight, her heart beating twice as fast in her chest.

"Starbucks at four?" He asks from the other side of the door, and she can't help but remember that this was exactly where they were months ago during their fallout, Sam shutting him out and him on the other side, waiting. This time, though, she doesn't skip a beat, yelling back, in her usual bored tone, trying not to sound overexcited like she really was, "Sounds good," and she listens as his footsteps fade and the elevator lightly dings, before practically jumping up.

For once, she doesn't think about the thousands of things that could go wrong and just revels in the wondrous feeling of relief and joy that was spreading throughout her whole being, making her feel as if she was glowing. She bounds to her closet and pulls out a pair of black, skinny jeans and a purple shirt. She doesn't even remember that this was what she had worn on that night, when she had walked the streets and had ended up running back to her apartment. No, she certainly doesn't remember any of that, because all she could think about was her upcoming date and starting over.

8

**A/N: Well what do you think about this ending? Which did you like better? Please leave me a review telling me what you think, it'll make my day! :)**


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